Azazel straightened, a slow smirk forming on his face as he stared at Hades' darkened expression, then shifted his gaze to the bloodied head lying near his feet. "Well… looks like someone's in a mood."
His Moggly immediately scurried off the table, crawling to hide beside the throne. The tension in the room was thick and the creature knew better than to get caught in the middle.
"You should choose your pawns more wisely," Hades said coldly, his burning gaze locked on his father. "That bastard was pathetic."
Azazel rose from his seat with deliberate calm, rolling his neck until it cracked, once to the left, once to the right. "I don't think I'll need pawns anymore. I have a better plan… one that doesn't involve failures."
Hades stepped forward, slow and silent, until only a few feet separated them. Though Azazel stood taller and broader, layered in thick, intimidating muscle, Hades's presence held its own weight—a cold, deadly presence lurking beneath the surface.
